


Buff Buffet

by dark_muse_iris



Category: K-pop, Monsta X (Band), Nine Muses
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Birthday, Double Entendre, F/M, Fluff, Food, Food Kink, Light Angst, Mild Smut, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Second Person, Partial Nudity, Reader-Insert, Sushi, SushiModel!Wonho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_muse_iris/pseuds/dark_muse_iris
Summary: Your best friend takes you to a new sushi restaurant to celebrate your birthday, but conveniently neglects to mention the food is served on a human plate.Excerpt:The pleasant musings over your impending meal are cut short, however, by a cracked door to one of the rooms. Your eyes skim the exposed room, a nosy habit of yours, and land on the nude body of a young woman resting on a long dinner table, surrounded by hungry spectators. Her bare form is elegant and toned, covered only by a few large leaves—housing an assortment of sushi. You realize at that moment that you are not at a sushi bar for your birthday. No. Instead, you are at a nyotaimori restaurant, in which nude models are employed as serving platters."Hey!" you hiss at Kyungri, tugging on her arm. "What the hell? There's a naked woman on a table getting eaten off of back there!"





	Buff Buffet

"Happy birthday, ___," you begrudgingly greet yourself as you lay cocooned in your bed, bound in blankets like an oversized burrito. You stare at the outdated popcorn ceiling of your bedroom with a forlorn expression, dreading the fact you can't stay in your bed all day. Or forever, for that matter.

A few weeks ago, you had been looking forward to your birthday. After all, you had a good job, a quaint apartment, and him—your boyfriend of nearly two years. You were finally starting to feel as though your life was falling into place as you headed into your late twenties. It wasn't lavish or extravagant, but it was yours, your little piece of the world carved out of years of hard work and self-sacrifice. You felt as though you were succeeding for the first time, and you wanted to maintain that positive momentum as much as possible.

Of course, that picture-perfect display of your life was hopelessly dashed to pieces the moment you arrived home from work early one afternoon to find your maybe-marriage-material boyfriend fucking someone else on the sofa you had purchased with your first real paycheck. It was a cold, cruel slap in the face. And ever since that day, between the arguments, the hasty packing of his belongings, and all the tears you shed over the loss, you hadn't felt quite yourself.

This morning is no different than the rest, as you replay the last two years and wonder where you missed all the signs, those critical indicators that he wasn't the right person. Were you so fixated on being with someone, you couldn't see the truth in front of you the entire time? You suppose you can never be sure, which is why you continue to lie there, wrapped in the warmth of an inanimate blanket, the only hug you could give yourself.

The palms of your hands rub against your cheeks and you flinch at the soreness. After another night of crying yourself to sleep, this is what you've earned. Disappointed in yourself for letting your ex's words ring in your head yet again, you recede further into the depths of your blankets, determined to go back to sleep until the sad, self-loathing you feel can disperse with the passage of time.

The cell phone on your nightstand rings and you frown at the realization that you forgot to switch on the "do not disturb" mode for your special day. The caller ID displays the only name you are willing to talk to in this state: your best friend of many years, Kyungri.

"Hello," you groan in a cracked voice.

"Happy birthday, ___!" her sing-song greeting echoes too loudly in your ear, making you recoil from the phone.

Idly shuffling your feet together to keep them warm, you murmur, "Good morn—afternoon, Kyungri."

"Hey, get up. I know you're still in bed." Kyungri's direct approach to conversation is always jarring, but you know it comes from a place of love and support.

"I don't want to," you whine, your face half-covered by your blankets.

"It's past lunch. You can't stay in there all day," she argues. "At some point, you'll have to pee. Nature's calling, ___. I can almost hear the sloshing of a full bladder. Come on, you'll feel better."

You begin to crack a smile, but continue to push back. "Even if I get out to pee, I'll get right back in when I’m done. There's no reason to leave. Nothing good is happening today and I have the day off. Let me burrito myself in peace."

"Alright, I'm not going to be your enabler and let you mope like this on your birthday," she huffs in frustration. "He was a fucking asshole, ___. I know you thought you would be spending your birthday with him, getting wined and dined, but he blew it, not you.  _Not you_ , you hear me? Now get up, seriously, because I planned a surprise for you, but it's out there—in public. You'll have to put on pants, I’m afraid."

Her chuckling fills you with apprehension because it's often a sign she's been up to something she shouldn't. She's always been the most reckless of your friends, but if you were to ask her opinion, she would refer to herself as a "free spirit."

"No, I want to stay here where it's warm," you reiterate.

"You can't," your friend protests. "You can't let him keep you from living your life. You're going to get out of that bed and wash your face and make yourself look hot because I'm taking you out."

Pausing to flatten your blanket against your stomach, you admit to yourself that you feel slightly better that Kyungri planned something nice for you. But she was up to something. You could hear it in her voice.

"Where are we going?" you inquire gently, hoping to glean a small clue as to her plans.

She hesitates, clearing her throat. "I can't tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you'll say no."

A frown etches across your features. "Is it a strip club?"

"No! I—why? Would you go there?" she probes, failing to shield her keen interest.

You respond in a clipped tone. "Hell. No."

"That's what I thought," she confirms. "It’s a restaurant, but please trust me. You'll like it there. It's healthy!"

You know Kyungri isn't telling you everything, but she isn't going to give in unless you actually withdraw from your bed and let her take you wherever she's planning.

"Fine," you concede, casting your blanket off with a flourish. "I'm getting up."

* * *

 

"Aw, you're taking me out for sushi?" you gush as your cab pulls up to a sleek building lit with trendy, recessed lights. "I love sushi. Haven't been to this place, though. It's the new one, right?"

"Mhm," Kyungri answers, trying to hide her smirk by looking out the window opposite the restaurant.

You narrow your eyes in suspicion. "What's so funny? Have you been here already? I'm not going to get pranked, am I?"

She whips her head around and shoots a dark look at you. "Hey! Can't I do something nice for you without you getting suspicious?"

"You're hiding something!"

"I am not!" she argues, but you catch the faintest trace of her lips curling mischievously.

"I swear to god, I know you're up to something." You point your polished finger accusingly. "I should have stayed home. This feels like that one time you lied to me about hiring that stripper to help me 'ring in the New Year.' Remember that lie?"

"That nice young man was earning his way through pharmacy school and I was just helping him out!" Kyungri fires back, tossing her curled hair in an overly dramatic fashion. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy that, girl. You went full tomato and I have pictures!"

She clasps her hand over her mouth as her eyes widen in shock at her own admission. Your jaw drops because she had sworn there was no evidence of that night ever happening. "You hussy! This friendship's over! I'm not going in there!"

"Get out of the car, ___!"

Kyungri scoffs and begins shoving you out of the passenger side of the vehicle with her hands and heels, much to the alarm of the cab driver who knows better than to intervene in a squabble among friends.

The entryway of the restaurant is ornately adorned with the trappings of an up-and-coming sushi bar. Large bonsai trees in hand-painted decorative vases guard the entrance, and you know they must have cost a small fortune. The room is dimly lit with a blend of traditional Japanese pendant lights and recessed modern alternatives you would expect to see at a lounge, and it seems to be working for the place. Your past life working food service informs you this place is expensive, as difficult as it would be to see the prices on the menus. The atmosphere is lively and business appears to be booming, as several customers wait to be seated and served at a very impressive stone bar, staffed by no less than three bartenders. You find it odd, however, that there's no sushi in sight.  _Maybe it's a fusion setup where the bar's here and the restaurant is in the back_ , you wonder.

Kyungri saunters toward the host and speaks with excitement. "Reservation under Park, please."

The older gentleman offers a courteous expression, nodding as he confirms the name. "Ah yes, right on time. Follow me please."

"Wonderful," she replies cheerfully, pulling you along to follow behind her.

The bar area is connected to a long hallway with several doors on either side. It is a peculiar design to you, but you suppose the restaurant was built in a reclaimed structure, perhaps in a building that was originally designed for another purpose.

Your cheeks grow warm as you hear the chatter and celebrations coming from behind each of the closed doors. It sounds as though the restaurant patrons are enjoying themselves, each group carrying on a private party away from the wandering eyes and ears of others. You appreciate the privacy; you and Kyungri can carry on whatever conversation you want over a pricey meal and then leave pleasantly full. A quiet, uneventful night of peace is what you need. As you walk down the hallway, you feel relieved she thought to bring you here and get you out of your house—even though you came kicking and screaming.

The pleasant musings over your impending meal are cut short, however, by a cracked door to one of the rooms. Your eyes skim the exposed room, a nosy habit of yours, and land on the nude body of a young woman resting on a long dinner table, surrounded by hungry spectators. Her bare form is elegant and toned, covered only by a few large leaves—housing an assortment of sushi. You realize at that moment that you are not at a sushi bar for your birthday. No. Instead, you are at a nyotaimori restaurant, in which nude models are employed as serving platters.

"Hey!" you hiss at Kyungri, tugging on her arm. "What the hell? There's a naked woman on a table getting eaten off of back there!"

"Shhh!" she hushes, waving you down to keep you from alerting the host.

"Did—did you bring me here to eat off a naked woman?"

She pinches your arm, making you recoil. "Hush, don't spoil your own birthday. Trust me on this one."

A knowing smile spreads across her face as the host pauses to open the last door on the right, waving his hand to usher you both inside. "I hope you two ladies have a lovely meal," he says, then steps backward as you pass over the threshold.

Kyungri enters the room first, making an extra effort to drag you in by the hand. The moment your eyes fall on the table, you erupt in a fit of nervous giggles as your face ignites in a flurry of embarrassment and morbid curiosity.

Lying comfortably on the table is a young man—appearing to be as naked as your eyes dare examine. A vast assortment of sushi adorns the center of his body from his bare chest to his...well, you can't bring yourself to look and find out.

You squeal from the overwhelming spectacle, turning to bolt out of the room. Unsurprisingly, however, Kyungri halts your advance. "Don't leave! I worked overtime for three weeks just to get him," she pleads. "He's the only male model here, and he's gorgeous."

"But he's naked—on the table! Naked!"

She shakes her head in de-escalation, calming her voice. "He's covered in food and that food is our dinner, ___. I ordered the sashimi special just for you."

A small wheeze sounds from the back of your throat. "I don't think I can do this."

Kyungri flashes a scolding look and whispers, "You can, or you'll wait outside while the hottie and I get acquainted without you. I know you're hungry. I heard it in the car!"

Your stomach betrays you with a growl in response and you frown. "Fine, but I swear, if it gets awkward, I will never forgive you!"

"You're welcome in advance," she smarts off, grinning ear to ear before approaching the table.

"Good evening, ladies," the young model greets. "I was wondering whether you were getting cold feet. I promise I won't bite. You can come closer and take your seats."

Kyungri laughs because she knows you have no defenses against well-mannered flirts; she must have planned this venture down to the last detail. Your hands trap your face and you hope your palms will somehow absorb the heat from your cheeks, but they don't.

As your feet bring you to the table’s edge, you notice that your dear friend took the seat closest to the model's face, leaving you to sit in front of the lower half of his body. You don't know whether to thank her or smack her for it. You take a seat and are unsure where to place your hands. It feels intrusive to rest them on the table so close to his pale, toned thigh.

"My name's Wonho, and I'll be your serving platter this evening," he introduces himself. "Your choice of tea and sake are on their way, but I would be happy to explain all of the delectable food choices I have to offer you."

Your mind travels to a sordid place as you take in his words and you press your lips together to keep from making a noise.

"That would be lovely," Kyungri answers, clearly amused by the presentation.

A soft grin stretches across his features and he continues to speak. "If I can bring your attention to my chest, you'll see I have an assortment of nigiri to choose from, housed on fresh green shiso leaves. Starting from my right breast and moving toward the left, we have salmon, tuna, yellowtail, shrimp, and saltwater eel—if you're feeling a little more adventurous. All have been lovingly prepared by our sushi chefs shortly before you arrived."

The delicate rectangles of rice dressed with fish gently rise and fall with each breath the young man takes, like a soft sea wave. You try to focus on his words and your choices to select for the evening, but the small glimpse of his nipples from below the leaves makes you salivate, diverting your attention. The right one is pierced vertically by a narrow stainless-steel bar, and you feel a familiar thump between your legs at the prospect of eating off of him. The jagged edges of greenery brush against his areola as he speaks, and you wonder if they tickle him like they would tickle your nipples, being particularly sensitive.  _Maybe he likes feeling the leaves caress his skin._

 _Christ_ , you scold yourself, taking a deep swallow as you continue to take in Wonho's lengthy description of the menu.

"The region below the chest is lined with four kinds of sushi rolls. We have tiger rolls, which has shrimp tempura, avocado, cucumber, and tobiko. Next, spicy tuna rolls with mayonnaise and a house chili sauce we make every morning from scratch. There are also your traditional California rolls with crab, tuna, and avocado. And lastly, if you prefer lighter fare, there are our vegetable rolls which have cucumber, carrot, scallion, avocado, asparagus, and a light cream cheese."

Kyungri licks her lips impatiently and you suspect she's having the same thoughts you're having as you gaze at the bountiful selection of sushi rolls stacked like fallen dominoes along the center of his well-defined, porcelain abs. He must have worked hard to craft such a sumptuous plate, and now you feel particularly appreciative your friend insisted on coming here. The chiseled ridges leading toward the navel and beyond are barely covered by the leaves, allowing your imagination to drift where you know it doesn't belong during your birthday dinner. As your eyes trace along his body to the most eye-catching location, Wonho clears his throat and finishes up his pitch.

"The lowest region around my waist contains a broad selection of sashimi, if you're one who prefers the taste of meat without any unnecessary distractions," he summarizes with a suggestive smirk. "We have tuna, salmon, halibut, yellowtail, tiger shrimp, raw scallops, deep-fried saltwater eel, and octopus—cooked, of course. All of the selections are arranged in a decorative fan shape to showcase their colors and catch the eye, but don't let the beauty of the placement deter you from having your fill. They are all quite delicious and fresh."

Your sight hovers a moment too long at his elaborately covered crotch and you are curious as to what's housed beneath the shiso leaves. Surely, he's covered things—his things, which you haven't been considering in the slightest. Warmth fills your cheeks when his thigh closest to you twitches involuntarily.  _What if a model gets an itch_ , you ponder, then quickly decide you would volunteer to help him out if he had one he couldn't reach.

"Do you have any questions about your dinner for this evening?" Wonho asks, breaking your stream of consciousness.

"Are you—" you trail off, struggling to formulate a clear question. "Are you naked under there?"

"Do I look naked? It's hard to know for sure with all the sashimi. You'll just have to eat it all to find out. I hope you brought your appetite."

Wonho quirks an eyebrow and Kyungri begins to howl with laughter and clap her hands.

"Oh, you are just delightful!" she praises, then turns to you. "Can we keep him, Mom?"

"You're terrible," you scold with wide eyes, before addressing Wonho again. "Are you really naked? I have to know because I love sashimi but I don't want to, um,  _disrupt anything_  that you have going on down there."

He laughs heartily and shakes his head. "It's okay. I have a covering on under the leaves; nothing of mine is touching anything of yours. I'm a serving platter almost every night of the week, and I have remarkable self-control."

"That's too bad," Kyungri sighs.

"Kyung—!"

The door to your room slides open, startling you and halting your scolding. A young man enters with a large tray holding two kettles of tea and a bottle of sake with a porcelain set of cups for each. You welcome the sight of alcohol in the hopes it will calm your nervousness. The happy clapping of your friend suggests she means to liven up the evening a bit more, or at least loosen her tongue. As the tray empties and the man exits, the fresh pot of tea placed next to you fills your nostrils with a warm and inviting earthen aroma. You pour yourself a cup but are interrupted by the tut-tuts of Kyungri.

"Now, now, sake first," she instructs, pouring two small glasses. "It's still warm."

You nod and know not to argue the matter as you take your cup. Kyungri lifts hers for a small cheer and you clink your drinks together before enjoying them. You take a small sip and let the warm liquid linger on your taste buds, soaking in its flavor before swallowing it down.

"Nice and crisp," you comment before taking another taste. Hoping the alcohol will give you the courage to fill the empty plate in front of you, you continue to drink until your cup is empty.

"Atta girl," Kyungri praises with a pat on your back. "Now which part of Wonho here do you want to eat from first?"

Your eyes give yourself away as they glide over to the sashimi adorning the model's pelvic region. Why did it have to be your favorite? It was pointless to pretend like you weren't here for the sashimi. You're always up for it, but this evening you are consumed with fear that you'll drop your chopsticks and mistakenly grab his dick in some tragic sushi mishap.  _I'll just work my way up to it_ , you negotiate with yourself as your face heats up again.

"I'll take some of the nigiri first. I'd like some rice," you lie, fully aware that if you fill up on nigiri, there won't be any room for the deep-fried saltwater eel. You can't get that just anywhere.

You stand with your plate and chopsticks and move to the other side of the table to prevent from having to reach over Kyungri's plate. It's the closest you've been to Wonho's face and you can't help but appreciate how youthful his complexion is. If he wasn't practically naked on your dinner table, you might have noticed his alluring eyes sooner.

His dark orbs invite you closer and you reach your chopsticks toward a piece of salmon nigiri. It's sitting closest to the edge of his chest, so you feel retrieving it will be the least invasive. The moment the notched ends of your wooden utensils graze the edge of the fish, Wonho's left pec twitches purposefully, pulsing to seize your attention. You raise your eyebrows in alarm and look into his face, only to meet his smirking expression and accompanying wink.

"Seriously?! I'll never eat anything this way. I'm dying," you squeeze out, hiding your blazing face from behind your dinner plate.

Wonho chuckles and smoothly states, "I'm only teasing. I'll stop."

"Don't do that!" Kyungri interjects from across the table. "She's single and it's her birthday."

"Oh, it is?" he replies with a beaming expression.

"Why am I friends with you?" you whine to your friend, who laughs at your blown cover. Peering down at the young man on the table, you answer reluctantly, "Yes, it's my birthday."

"Happy birthday, ___," Wonho replies in a suggestive tone, and you make every effort to swallow down the salacious thoughts you're having about him being your birthday present.

Taking your chopsticks to resume the task of collecting your food, you offer a small thank you as you try to focus. Your voice is barely recognizable in the sea of your own bashfulness, but you're thankful you can still communicate like an adult. The young man relaxes his body and allows you to build your plate, but you can feel his eyes watching you, making you feel as exposed as he is. As each piece of fish passes from his breast and abdomen to your dish, you feel a rush of excitement.

Returning to your seat, you begin to partake of your meal. As you suspect, it tastes as well-prepared as the model advertised and your shoulders relax as you allow yourself to enjoy the dance of flavors. Kyungri, unfazed by the spectacle of his body, loads her plate from his chest and pelvis with poise. You wonder if she's been to this restaurant before, or perhaps she's just more comfortable around naked strangers than you thought.

"So," Kyungri begins, hoping to continue interacting with the model, "how did you get into this line of work?"

Wonho stirs slightly and tries to form a response. She notices the delay and quickly backtracks. "Is it okay to ask that? Don't feel like you have to or anything. I'm just really curious."

"Well, this isn't my primary job," he answers. "I'm repaying student loans and need the extra cash. This is a nights-and-weekends sort of gig, so it works well with my other work schedule."

"What's your other job?" you ask, curious as to what the young man did during the daytime when he wasn't moonlighting as a sushi model.

He laughs nervously. "You don't want to know."

"Ah, come on, don't get shy on us now," Kyungri presses, taking a California roll from his abs and slipping it between her lips. "What, are you a cop? A drug dealer?" Her questions are half-muffled by rice and avocado.

Wonho releases a sigh and confesses, "I'm a sixth-grade science teacher."

The words fill your ears as you are mid-pluck with a piece of cooked octopus from his pelvis. Scrambling to move it to your plate before you burst into a fit of giggles, you hear your friend nearly choke on her sushi roll.

"You're kidding!" she accuses with bulging eyes.

"I wish I was," he counters with a smile. "Thankfully, none of my students are allowed here with the age restriction. I've had some awkward run-ins with a few parents, though."

"Oh, I bet," Kyungri says, chewing quickly. "I saw your nipple piercing."

He chuckles and remarks, "At least my leg tattoos are covered with makeup."

"They make you cover them for work?" you ask. "Why?"

"There were some complaints about hygiene, but I think they just didn't like them."

Kyungri frowns. "Sound like prudes to me." You and Wonho nod in agreement.

The sake absorbs into your bloodstreams and the conversation grows livelier and more entertaining. You feel emboldened enough to finally partake of the sashimi you had been eyeing all evening. A savory sliver of halibut slides down your throat as Kyungri, drunk from a second bottle of sake she ordered, calls Wonho a liar.

"You're just—you're just trying to get tips," she slurs with a discerning eye. "There's no way you're a science teacher!"

He pulls the empty shiso leaves off his chest and abdomen and you feel your breathing grow ragged upon seeing him more exposed than ever, with you and your friend dining from his nether regions.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" he asks. His abs contract as he speaks and lightheaded thoughts fill the space between your ears again.

"Because you're—"

You start laughing as Kyungri stumbles over what she wanted to say.

"It's because you're hot," you comment matter-of-factly, snagging another piece of fish. "What are you teaching this week? If you're a teacher, you can tell us that."

"Yeah!" Kyungri agrees at too high a volume.

Wonho tucks his arm behind his head. "I just finished the unit on the cell. I could tell you the parts of the cell, although in sixth grade it’s just the basics."

He begins to rattle off terms like “ribosomes” and “cytoplasm” you haven't heard since college, and a smile stretches across your lips as Kyungri looks as flustered as you did at the start of dinner.

"___," she whispers, tugging at your arm as Wonho continues down the list. "He's gorgeous and he's smart. You should leave your number."

Your eyes widen like saucers and you shake your head furiously. "Nope, that's it. You're cut off." Your hand grabs for her sake glass and she pouts at being relegated to what she perceives to be a timeout.

"Here, fill up on more of Wonho's—gifts,” you suggest. “And soak up that alcohol."

* * *

 

As dinner winds to a close, you prepare a small box to take the remaining pieces of sashimi with you. You feel good, full of your favorite fish and refreshed by the conversation from the attractive young teacher on the table.

"Well, it's been a pleasure serving both of you ladies this evening," he says. "I would show you out, but I'm afraid it would be indecent."

"You were a treat," Kyungri attests, tucking several bills of cash into the leather receipt holder housing the evening's steep check. "Best of luck teaching those kids all about science," she adds with a chuckle.

"Thank you," you offer politely as you gather your handbag and sling it over your shoulder.

"I hope you have a wonderful birthday, ___," Wonho replies with a silken tone.

Heat creeps into your cheeks a final time as you smile at the young man and take your leave.

* * *

 

The car ride home is silent for the first few minutes as you and Kyungri try to process the spectacle you had seen and tasted.

"Thank you for taking me out for my birthday."

She shakes her head and looks out the window, laughing in that same manner you had grown suspicious of over the years.

"Oh, you don't have to thank me. It was satisfying as hell watching you drool over him. You need to get laid, girl. I left him your number on the bill."


End file.
